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COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



THE OPEN ROAD 



And Other Poems by 



LUCY E. ABEL 







BOSTON 

THE GORHAM PRESS 
1916 



Copyright, 1916, by Lucy E. Abel 



All Rights Reserved 






The Gorham Pr^iss, Boston, U. S. A. 

MAR 10 1916 



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CONTENTS 

The Open Road 7 

War 8 

Queries to the Bees 9 

Out of Work 10 

The Passing of Summer 11 

The Blind 12 

Summer Winds 14 

Faith 15 

The Stream 16 

Down by the Sea 17 

A Love Dream 19 

The Mountains 20 

The Outcast 22 

Concealment 22 

Courage 23 

To an Old Sailor 23 

Relief 23 

Sorrow 24 

Ocean Mists 25 

Upon the Battlefield 26 

One Winter Evening 27 

Dim Lives 28 

Dumb 30 

A Lonely Hill-top 31 

To a Child 32 

Victory 33 

The Sea Gull 34 

The Sea Bird 35 

The Winds 36 

To the Evening Star 37 

Lost Youth 37 



CONTENTS 

To Spring 38 

The Hoar-Frost 39 

The Grove 40 

Secret Love 42 

The Moon-Light Nights of Childhood Days 43 

Nature 44 

To the Pacific Ocean 46 

The Night 47 

Out on the Hills 47 

The Wasted Life 48 

Tears 49 

The Stars 50 

Sunshine and Shade 50 

This Changeful Life 51 

To a Friend 52 

Dead on the Field of Honor 52 

Night 53 

The History of Witchcraft 53 

The Drug Fiend « 54 

The Emigrant's Farewell 55 

Alone 56 

There is no God 56 

Life 57 

Thy Grave 57 

The Unloved 58 

Fate 58 

The Place that I Love Best 59 

New Life 62 

To a Workman 62 

Faith and Doubt 63 

The Accident 64 



THE OPEN ROAD 



THE OPEN ROAD 

You build a palace stately high, 

It has no charms for me. 
There should I only droop and sigh, 

Beneath blue skies to be. 

Your velvet lawns cannot compare, 
With rolling, flower-spread plains; 

Your boulevards are poor and bare. 
Beside the forest lanes. 

Your midnight feast with sparkling wines, 

I willingly forego. 
To eat my bread beneath the pines. 

Where mountain winds may blow. 

Your costly wines are not as bright, 
* As water from the spring; 
Your music cannot me delight, 
Who hear the wild birds sing. 

Your gardens, where sweet roses bloom. 

May charm one who forgets. 
But more I love the forest gloom, 

Where cluster violets. 

No petty house can roof me In; 

The world is home to me; 
I flee from all the city din; 

With Nature would I be. 



WAR 

O'er all the world the cloud of war 

Obscures the light of day, 
And Death waits, grewsome, stained with gore, 

For hearts now light and gay. 

So lightly men may sign away 

The lives of other men, 
As if they over Death held sway, 

And could create again. 

But it is not the noble lords, 

Their own dear kith and kin. 
Who must now buckle on their swords, 

Their country's fight to win. 

Nay, it is still the common folk, 

As in the days of yore, 
Upon whom now is laid the yoke, 

Of devastating war. 

Yet they, the laboring men, forget 

Their creed of social love; 
Their country's honor now is set. 

All brotherhood above. 

O War, thy blight has cursed the earth. 

For ages to our ken. 
And our dim eyes can see no birth. 

Of peace on earth to men. 

Then is it true, that old belief. 

That man did fall from grace ? 
Is that the reason no relief 

Is sent our suffering race? 
8 



QUERIES TO THE BEES 

O brown bees in the clover, 

In the sunshine and dew, 
As you hum in your cover, 

Are earth's cares known to you? 

Does your work bring you pleasure? 

Is there aught in your life, 
But grim toil for vain treasure, 

Discontent with your strife? 

Is your home a dark hovel, 
That has shut out the light, 

Where your spirit must grovel. 
In the darkness of night? 

Is it full of the jangle, 
Of those bred altogether. 

Who must quarrel and wrangle 
And depress one another? 

Do you leave to mankind: 

To delight not in labor; 
Though with eyes, to be blind ; 

And to love not his neighbor? 

Will you tell me, brown bees, 
As you hum at your leisure. 

Why man's toil does not please? 
Why he fills not your measure? 

Ah, if man toiled like this, 
In the throat of a flower. 

He might also find bliss, 
As he spent hour by hour. 
9 



OUT OF WORK 

The city streets all day you pace, 

Alone amid the crowd. 
Indifference cold veils every face, 

With thin, dividing cloud. 

You ask for work to meet repulse; 

There's naught for you to do. 
In all that city's throbbing pulse. 

There is no need of you. 

Your feet drag as you pass along; 

With weariness you sink, 
But no one in that hurrying throng. 

Of you has time to think. 

Each day you spend a little less; 

Your hoard is very small; 
A few more weeks of idleness 

Will take your little all. 

Ah, what awaits you, hapless one? 

The boon you ask is small, 
But such they ask, whom all men shun. 

Who through misfortune fall. 



lO 



THE PASSING OF SUMMER 

When the summer is over, and faded the flowers, 
That once brightened the garden and gladdened the 

hours, 
Then a spirit of sadness broods over it all, 
For the death of the summer, the oncome of fall, 
Then faint echoes remain of the laughter that rang. 
And the songs, that the guests of the summer once 

sang. 
Then the shattered brown blossoms, there is no one 

to praise, 
And the song birds in south lands then warble their 

lays. 
The red Indian summer the leaves may inflame. 
But the spirit of sadness still broods there the same. 

When the summer of life has sped swiftly away, 
And the autumn comes darkly, all somber and gray. 
Then a spirit of sadness steals into the heart. 
And the flowers (our bright hopes) with the summer 

depart. 
We may win high renown, we may gain great suc- 



cess 



cess, 

But the sunshine of youth, we shall then not possess. 



II 



THE BLIND 

There came a messenger one day, 

To you from Fate, unkind, 
Who took from you the light of day, 

And ranked you with the blind. 

God's wondrous book of nature, 
To you was thenceforth sealed ; 

No stream could give you pleasure, 
No forest, no green field. 

Nor could man's lesser books reveal 

The secrets God has taught 
To men, of human woe and weal. 

With which our life is fraught. 

At first your heart, when hope was dead, 
But asked for death and peace. 

That life, from which all joy had fled, 
Forevermore should cease. 

But as the long years wore away, 

The dragging, dreary years. 
Came peace with you to always stay 

And dry your futile tears. 

That peace will never leave your heart. 
Which these long years have brought; 

That joy will ne'er from you depart. 
Which faith in life has wrought. 

You sit alone in darkness, 

The darkness of the blind, 
But still your soul has brightness, 

The vision of the mind. 
12 



They leave you sitting there, alone, 

With folded, nervous hands; 
Your thoughts have over oceans flown, 

To long remembered lands. 

You tread dear pathways in your dream, 

A care-free, buoyant child ; 
You gather flowers beside the stream, 

Fair flowers, that gem the wild. 

You know the heat of youthful tears; 

You feel love's joy and pain ; 
In hardships of the pioneers. 

You find life's peace again. 

And so it passes in review. 

The book of your long life ; 
No written page could tell to you. 

So much of joy and strife. 

Yet as you read its record strange, 
Seen through the mist of years, 

There is no line that you would change. 
Though stained it be with tears. 



13 



SUMMER WINDS 

Summer winds, that softly sigh, 

Murmur of long ago ; 
Bring back childhood's cloudless sky, 

Bright with youth's hot glow. 

Whisper of ages long since dead, 

Filled with pain and woe; 
Heroes, whose deeds a lustre shed. 

Over earth below; 
Women, whose beauty love inspired. 

Fierce as torrid heat; 
Slaves, whom Freedom one time fired, 

Laying life at her feet. 

Summer winds, my sorrow take; 

Mingle with old world woe; 
Thirsts no draught could ever slake ; 

Madness, martyrs know. 



14 



FAITH 

My reason tells me, life is all, 
That after death, I shall not be, 

Yet whatsoe'er may me befall, 
I'll trust in immortality. 

I sit beside my dying friend ; 

My heart with grief is clouded o'er; 
The faith within me doth contend, 

That I shall see my friend once more. 

The soul I loved, that has not died, 
But lives beyond the grave I trust, 

Though but on faith we have relied, 
Since man first crumbled into dust. 

Where'er the race of man has dwelt, 
However rude his state might be. 

Yet has he at the altar knelt, 

Of unknown gods he could not see. 

Why was this hope then given man, 

If it was but to be in vain. 
If there is then no cosmic plan. 

And strife but yields a barren gain? 

Life's mystery, although man delves. 
His earthly senses fail to grasp. 

How should we think our finite selves 
Infinity could ever clasp? 

But if we yield to faith's sweet trance. 
That other realm is half revealed. 

Although from reason's doubting glance, 
Its beauties have been well concealed. 
15 



We scoff at faith with deep disgust, 
Until o'erwhelmed by heartless fate, 

Then do we turn, with child-like trust, 
To our unquestioning, primal state. 

When we are left, sad and alone. 

Our hearts by faith are still sustained, 

Though science has so brightly shone, 
It ne'er for man such hope contained. 

THE STREAM 

Far down below, the stream flows on. 

And heeds not you or me. 
It has its own set course to run, 

Unto the waiting sea. 

And tinkling on, it still must go. 

Sometimes with turbulent roar. 
The waters, that beneath me flow. 

Tomorrow reach the shore. 

The heavens find no mirror here. 

To view their radiant eyes, 
For jumbled in this water clear. 

All but the sparkle dies. 

The stream's sweet song doth soothe the brains, 

Aweary of the world; 
It tells of tangled forest lanes. 

Where fern fronds lie, close-curled. 

It tells of deer, with plaintive eyes. 

Within the forest glades, 
And many a joy, that hidden lies. 

Beneath the cool, green shades. 
i6 



O, friend of mine, you used to love 
The rippling waters' song, 

And now I dream we stand above, 
Where speeds the stream along. 

Although you lie far underground, 
Enwrapped in death's deep dream, 

I trust your spirit hears the sound, 
Of one celestial stream. 



DOWN BY THE SEA 

Oh, it is beautiful there below, 
There, where the salt, sea breezes blow, 
Down by the sea. 

The idle waves do lightly play; 
They dash the rocks with silvery spray, 
Down by the sea. 

The winds have bent the trees and all; 
They shrink away from the white-capped squall, 
Down by the sea. 

Far o'er the waves the sea birds go; 
They little reck of human woe. 
Far o'er the sea. 

A ship there was that sailed away. 
One blue-skyed, golden summer day. 
Far o'er the sea. 

The treacherous ocean smiled that day; 
She gave the ship an azure way, 
Far o'er the sea. 

17 



The winds uprose; the dark'ning waves 
Sent ship and all to unknown graves, 
Down In the sea. 

The light of life went down for me, 
When sank that ship far out at sea. 
Far o'er the sea. 

I wander there and watch the waves. 
As each in turn the gray sand laves, 
Down by the sea. 

They sing to me a dirge for those, 
Who sailed out, where the sea bird goes, 
Far o'er the sea. 

The restless tides advance in vain. 
Then turn and must run back again, 
Down by the sea. 

They seem to say to mortal man. 
This earthly life you too may scan. 
But not beyond. 

Your life is bounded as the sea ; 
Beyond its shores, you may not see. 
No, not beyond. 



i8 



A LOVE DREAM 

Beneath cold Luna's beams I had 

A dream, so mad, so vain, 
And yet, ah yet, I should be glad, 

If I might dream again. 

I touched the soft, warm lips of love; 

She gave me joy supreme, 
But Luna shone far up above, 

And it was all a dream. 

Those troubadors, who sang beneath 
Their ladies' trellised bowers, 
Were maddened by the silver wreath, 
That Luna downward showers. 

And I was mad when dreaming there, 

Yet would I not forego 
The bliss of having had my share, 

Of love's sweet, transient woe. 



19 



THE MOUNTAINS 

Upon the mountains far away, 

Whose crests are capped with snow, 

Far distant from earth's sordid way, 
The cool, free breezes blow. 

O mountains, heavenward towering. 
Up towards the realm of God, 

Upon thy summits gleaming, 
No foot of man e'er trod. 

But there are lesser pinnacles. 

Where we of earthly race 
May stand and view earth's miracles. 

In nature's lovely face. 

Oh! It is life. Earth hath no gains, 
Man might not well forego, 

With alpenstock in hand o'er plains. 
Of fissured ice to go. 

To feel the blood with freedom glow; 

Down the crevasse to gaze. 
Where in the emerald depths below 

Lurks death in hideous phase. 

The boundless fields of snow to roam; 

The avalanche to brave. 
Where he, who seeks a mountain home. 

May find a mountain grave. 

There every man's my brother; 

We never fail to greet; 
We gayly hail each other, 

Whene'er we chance to meet. 
20 



There is no caste on the mountain side; 

We are good comrades all; 
We need not our true feelings hide, 

Behind a social wall. 

Oh ! Would that I might pitch my tent, 
Where flowers are richly spread 

On grassy slopes; and find content, 
With mountains looming overhead. 

To hear the thunderous waterfall; 

Be drenched perhaps with spray. 
As on its moss-grown, rocky wall, 

I wend my tortuous way. 

O mountains, in my dreams I may 
Stand on thy heights once more, 

And often shall my thoughts by day, 
To thy pure regions soar. 

In dreams I'll take the trail again, 

My alpenstock In hand; 
Earth's cares I'll leave behind me then; 

Earth's joys I shall command. 

All my desires would be fulfilled. 

Nor need I further seek; 
My breast with rapture would be filled. 

Upon thy snow-clad peak. 

That life would give far more to me 

Than this half life I lead, 
Though modern ingenuity 

Has filled each human need. 



21 



THE OUTCAST 

And shall I be one, 
Of creatures we shun, 
A thing of the night. 
That hides from the light. 
When others retire, 
Beside the bright fire. 
With spirit, serene. 
It walks all unseen. 
We know not its name, 
Nor what is its shame, 
If shame be the cause 
' That custom's great laws 

It cares for no more 
Than tempest's wild roar. 
But all unafraid 
Doth seek but the shade. 
When storms do but rave, 
It fears not the grave, 
But goes all alone, 
Though nature doth moan. 

CONCEALMENT 

We smile at that old custom of the East, 

Which keeps its women veiled from public sight, 

And yet how oft we too would like to hide 
Our deep emotions from revealing light. 

We fain would draw a welcome veil across 
What God has made the window of the soul, 

But failing that, our faces must assume 
A calm, indifferent and worldly role. 



22 



COURAGE 

When fear in battle doth impart 

Its madness to all men, 
The courage of a single heart 

Oft turns the tide again. 

And in the battle of this life, 

If courage we possess, 
We shall prevail amid the strife, 

Though fierce the storm and stress. 

TO AN OLD SAILOR 

Many years you sailed the ocean gray, 
But another sea you sail today. 
Limitless that sea, and all unknown, 
Yet each ship embarks and sails alone. 
Sure a pilot's hand will guide aright. 
On that sea, so dark to mortal sight. 

RELIEF 

What in your darkest hour of need. 

You felt to be your shame, 
What for your sorrow, fierce and great, 

You knew was all to blame. 
Is that this little, laughing child, 

Your joy and greatest pride. 
As if before her secret birth, 

You were a happy bride? 

The love, that shed once o'er your life 
A lustre, false, though bright, 

Has left no other trace behind, 
But this small, laughing sprite. 
23 



Your woman's soul will always cling 

To that false, fleeting love; 
Your heart will always place its child, 

All other things above; 
But time, with soothing, healing hand, 

Has taken away your grief, 
And for your sorrow and your shame 

Has granted you relief. 

SORROW 

As we prefer the starlight soft. 
To noontide's bright, hot ray, 

So is sweet sorrow fairer far, 
Than pleasure, the most gay. 

The night doth make all beautiful. 

And ugliness obscure, 
So sorrow brings our virtues out, 

The more we must endure. 

There is a calm and peaceful joy. 

In presence of the night. 
And sorrow gives its mourning ones, 

A solace, naught can blight. 

The moon-light has inspired the poet. 

To use his magic pen, 
And of all art, most beautiful 

Has come from sorrowing men. 

And has for theme, not happiness. 

But pain's ennobling grace. 
That like the night has made the world, 

A fairer, grander place. 



OCEAN MISTS 

When ocean mists are in the air, 

And cool, sea breezes blow, 
And gulls have sought the stormy wave, 

There might I also go. 
My heart it hath a longing. 

For my ancestral home. 
And like my brave forefathers 

The ocean I would roam. 

I think old ocean calls tonight, 

From dreary, rock-bound shore, 
With voices of the men who sailed. 

Across her plains of yore. 
She bids me come and sleep this night. 

Besides her thunderous waves, 
And hear the tales of those who found. 

Within her depths their graves. 

There might I also learn the fate, 

Of creatures of the deep, 
That ocean, old and miserly, 

Imprisons in her keep, 
For treasures they of mystery. 

That ocean will not tell. 
Save to the ones who come to know 

And love old ocean well. 



25 



UPON THE BATTLEFIELD 

Another sacrifice in vain, 
Just one among the thousands slain. 
Ah, would kind fate, that it were all, 
When you have sunk beneath earth's pall, 
But somewhere someone waits for you; 
Some faithful heart is beating true. 
Oh, you were such a bonnie boy, 
You must have been someone's great joy. 

Some mother's hand has smoothed that hair, 
That now a clotted mass lies there; 
Perhaps that mother waits your tread. 
And all the while you're lying dead. 
Upon a distant, foreign land. 
Where never flowers by loving hand 
Shall planted be upon this sod. 
That's watered by the tears of God. 

As yet she does not for you mourn. 

But cherishes a hope forlorn. 

Or conjures faith from some false sign, 

Or prays for help from powers divine. 

She cannot think that your young life 

Could pass amid this war's cruel strife 

And leave her here, decrepit, old, 

To face, perhaps, earth's want and cold. 

Ah, man is like the fragrant rose. 
That now in summer sunshine blows, 
Then fades before the autumn frost. 
And as a rose for aye is lost. 



26 



ONE WINTER EVENING 

One winter eve I walked apart, 
When life to me seemed vain, 

When hope, that once sustained my heart, 
Refused to rise again. 

The sky was cloudless overhead. 

Unlike my troubled soul ; 
The night a jeweled mantle spread, 

An azure, star-lit whole. 

I thought how once Mahomet, 

Alone in a desert land, 
Had learned this life's great secret. 

While pacing the barren sand. 

The desert stretched on every side. 

In undulating waves ; 
Not meant for homes, where men abide, 

But rather for their graves. 

Yet travelers on the desert find, 

Amid the encircling calm, 
Full oft a spot, where nature kind 

Preserves the fruitful palm. 

And gives to man the welcome taste, 

Of water, pure and cool ; 
A garden spot, amid the waste. 

Beside the glistening pool. 

I asked the night to solve for me 

This world's great mystery; 
This answer only came to me, 

"Such must it always be." 
27 



Yet, as the night did onward creep, 
To ease my doubting brain, 

Came faith a silent watch to keep, 
And hope returned again. 

I cared not then the world to seek, 

But kept my way apart, 
For night to my sad soul did speak. 

From its deep, pulsing heart. 

I felt that somehow, somewhere must 

To me be shown a light ; 
And o'er me stole a deep, deep trust. 

Out of the starry night. 

The revelation of God's truth. 

That to Mahomet came. 
Was it this simple faith, in sooth. 

Just called another name? 

DIM LIVES 

It's little cares and troubles, 

That wear our lives away. 
And hopes, that prove but bubbles, 

That turn our hair to gray. 

For countless friends will comfort us. 

In sorrow or great pain. 
But there is none to strengthen us, 

Against the daily strain. 

Yet this it is that saps our youth, 
And fills our lives with care. 

But no one wants to hear the truth, 
If we our hearts lay bare. 
28 



And that Is why we often see 

A face with lips compressed; 
A sorrow, deep, yet never free, 

Is locked within that breast. 

And yet these sorrowing ones on earth 

Do many a noble deed; 
They are not found in halls of mirth. 

But in the house of need. 

And through the long, long, dragging years, 

We never hear them sigh. 
Nor mortal man shall see their tears, 

Or hear their hearts' deep cry. 

They ever shrink from public gaze, 
Nor court the world's bright sun. 

But in life's dim, sequestered ways. 
Their web of good is spun. 

Sometimes their hearts speak through their eyes, 

A language dumb with pain, 
The grief, that deeply hidden lies. 

Is made then all too plain. 

But when long years have o'er them past, 

Kind nature soothes their pain ; 
In life's declining years at last. 

She gives them joy again. 

Perhaps on earth they never know 

What youth deems greatest joy, 
But in their lives' calm, twilight glow, 

Peace is without alloy. 



29 



DUMB 

An inner self Is hid in you, 

A greater self concealed from view, 

So different from the self you show, 

That men that other self ne'er know, 

Its thoughts your tongue cannot express, 

For nature does that self suppress. 

Dumb, ever dumb, you must remain, 
And seek to voice your thoughts in vain. 
All things, perhaps, you comprehend. 
But knowledge must with you descend 
And be but dust, unless you find 
A way of leaving it behind. 

You gaze upon a heaven-made scene, 
And so may one whose soul is mean ; 
You can, no more than he, impart 
The secret of wise nature's art, 
Or tell the joy her beauty gives 
To him, who in her presence lives. 

But many men are likewise dumb, 

And something in them does benumb 

Their finer selves and hide from ej^cs 

Nobility that in them lies, 

For oft beneath a stoic's face, 

A nature, rich and deep, has place. 

How would your inner self rejoice, 
If its deep yearnings found a voice. 
O happy genius, you, who can 
Impart your glowing soul to man ; 
Earth's greatest blessing you possess, 
The power, her glory to express. 
30 



A LONELY HILL-TOP 

I know a lonely, wooded hill, 
Where time a little while is still; 
The rushing world but passes by, 
Nor comes this lonely hill-top nigh. 

Below humanity doth teem. 

Where lights of distant cities gleam; 

There time is speeding swiftly by, 

No man may pause, though lost ones cry. 

There is so much that must be done ; 
They cannot wait tomorrow's sun; 
There crime doth hide its lurking face; 
There passion rages ; slinks disgrace. 

There some in haunts of sin and vice 
Are pressing fate to cast the dice, 
And borrowing time from life's short span, 
For so much sleep is given man. 

For rest and peace was made the night. 

And not for holding revels light. 

Or for committing evil deeds. 

But quiet and rest this old world needs. 

Here night by night the heavens gaze. 
Through cloud or star-light, rain or haze, 
And never changes this lone hill; 
Here nature's creatures roam at will. 

But few there are, for few abound 
Upon this bushy, rocky ground. 
Hour after hour no sound is heard, 
Except the call of some wild bird. 
31 



Giant ruined trees here rooted stand, 
The mute historians of the land, 
Connecting with the ages gone 
Our age, so madly hast'ning on. 

Here man at last can be alone, 
Unless he fears the wind's low moan 
Is the lament of some lost soul, 
That still assumes its earthly role. 

If peace of mind should be man's quest, 
Here may he find the perfect rest, 
For here eternal calm doth brood, 
And fickle time doth not obtrude. 

TO A CHILD 

Ah, little one, you are so fair, 
But time is hard and none doth spare ; 
Your childhood soon will pass away 
Just as on earth all must decay. 

What is your life to be, my dear? 
Will sunshine break through many a tear? 
Will honor be yours, or disgrace? 
With high or low will be your place? 

As time goes on, your joy must fade, 
Your beauty then will be a shade. 
But in your mother's faithful heart. 
From babyhood, you ne'er shall part. 

Your eyes must lose their youthful light. 
To her they ne'er can be less bright. 
Your hands may hardened be by toil; 
Soft, little hands, may sin not soil. 
32 



Your rosy cheeks, no longer fair, 
Must show the marks of grief and care; 
Your heart, that now a toy makes glad, 
May then be empty, cold and sad, 
Embittered past this world's relief. 
By too much joy or too much grief. 

But, little one, no future fear, \ 

Though you must shed full many a tear. 

For mortal man has always found. 

If faith but in the heart abound, 

A power, much higher, and greater than all, 

Sustains its children, whate'er befall. 

VICTORY 

A cry is heard upon the wind, 
Though stifled much by moans; 

The cry is victory, I know, 

But mingled with men's groans. 

And it must strike some joy at least. 

In e'en a sluggish breast, 
To know that our own native land 

Has stood the bloody test. 

Yet many hearts are bowed with grief 

And mourning deep tonight. 
For there are eyes that from this day 

Will never see the light. 

Our men have won the fight today; 

Our land against the foe. 
Oh! If we could but overlook 

The suffering and the woe. 



33 



But let us send our paeans up 

For this great victory, 
Yet let not hearts be steeled against 

The cry for sympathy. 

O, victory! Our victory! 

Though bought at our great cost; 
Our country's cause was never yet, 

Nor ever shall be lost. 

THE SEA GULL 

Thy eyes are fierce, thou carrion bird ; 
Thy voice is harsh and seldom heard, 

Yet art thou bold and free. 
Thy every movement grace displays. 
The beauty gained through long, long days, 

Beside the lonely sea. 

Upon the rock with rugged face. 

For thy rough nest, thou find'st a place. 

Wherein to rear thy brood. 
Thy mate is no fond, cooing dove, 
Yet is she fitted for thy love, 

And for thy home so rude. 



34 



THE SEA BIRD 

A wild sea bird, I fain would be 
That sweeps the crested wave ; 

That lives its life upon the sea, 
There finds at last its grave. 

Oh, would I were a free sea gull, 

That on the rocks abides. 
And is at home, in storm, in lull, 

Upon resistless tides. 

Or surf duck, that doth fall and rise, 

Upon the billows high, 
Or petrel, that far outward flies, 

Across the stern, gray sky. 

Hail to the bold sea rover. 
That sails the stormy deep, 

And when life's voyage is over, 
Beneath the seas doth sleep. 

THE WINDS 

O winds, that moan on lonely hills. 

On dark and fearful nights, 
When through the glistening sheen of rain, 

Still gleam the city lights. 

Why must your grief and pain endure, 

Forever on this earth ? 
Why can you never form a sound. 

That seems to token mirth? 



35 



When summer sheds its wondrous glow, 

From an unclouded sky, 
Your voices then are sweet and low, 

Yet still they breathe a sigh. 

Is it a universal pain, 

Through your unbounded realm? 
Is this old world then doomed to woe? 

Can nothing change the helm? 

We ask in vain. No answer comes, 

To our old, useless cry; 
You shriek in all-abandoned grief, 

Or only moan and sigh. 

{Later) 

The calm of Sabbath evening comes. 

In purple mist tonight. 
I stand where lately in the storm, 

I shared the wind's lone plight. 

The stars are clustering over-head; 

The heavens bend so near ; 
It seems that this imperfect world, 

To God is very dear. 

My heart is not content tonight. 

No. Not so much as when, 
I heard the winds lament for us. 

The sorry sons of men. 

Is something in the wintry blast, 

Akin to my own soul, 
Some sad, despairing, fated thing, 

That lives without a goal? 

36 



TO THE EVENING STAR 

O star of hope, you shone on me, 
When I was heedless and so young; 

You spoke a language, that could be 
Expressed by no time-serving tongue. 

Just constancy, that was your creed. 
To God's eternal, changeless truth. 

Thus should I in my life succeed. 

That was your message to my youth. 

In this my prime of womanhood, 

Be still my mentor as of yore. 
Oh, tell me whatsoe'er is good. 

And teach my earth-clogged thoughts to soar. 

O star of hope, wilt shine on me. 
When I am feeble, aged and worn, 

And will you then my comfort be. 
When to this life I cling forlorn. 

LOST YOUTH 

Let me not hear your music, 

For it but causes pain, 
And only raises hopes long dead 

And sorrows once again. 

It only brings back my lost youth. 

And what I dreamt might be, 
Ere my poor, fated bark was wrecked. 

On life's cold, desolate sea. 



37 



It is an infinite sadness, 

That rises in my heart, 
Of which I know the balm of years 

Will never heal the smart. 

But life had helped me to forget 
That that old wound was there, 

Although it lay but hidden, 
Beneath my peace, so fair. 

Oh ! Give me back my peace again. 
The peace I've won through years. 

Why should your melodies disturb 
The fountain of my tears? 

The sweet, cool breath of night has come 

To lay the ghost of pain, 
Which rose with all the passion. 

Of my dead youth again. 

TO SPRING 

The yellow crocus soon we'll see. 

Above the naked ground ; 
The robin's song will blithesomely, 

At early morning sound. 

The woes of winter-time endure. 
With all its darksome gloom, 

For spring will come. Be sure. Be sure, 
And all the earth will bloom. 

The violets and the daffodils 

Will come to life again, 
To free the world of wretched ills, 

For this sad race of men. 

38 



They tell us winter-time is past, 

These gentle, early flowers; 
They tell us spring has come at last, 

With sunshine and with showers. 

I love them more than richer flowers, 

That grace the summer-time. 
And fill the earth with gorgeous bowers. 

When they are in their prime. 

Then let us greet the gentle spring, 
That comes to young and old, 

And let the birds the message bring. 
That lovers aye have told. 

If in our hearts the flowers of spring 
Are withered by time's hand. 

The birds their resurrection sing, 
In some far brighter land. 

THE HOAR-FROST 

You praise the brilliant diamond set, 

Within a golden ring; 
The earth w^ith diamonds is re-set, 

When old Jack Frost is king. 

They sparkle on the twigs and leaves; 

They gleam beneath the feet; 
The bushes are like hoary sheaves. 

Bowed down with silver wheat. 

Fantastic drapery conceals 

Each homely thing on earth; 

The cold, white moon-light but reveals 
Of jewels there is no dearth. 
39 



Each star a jewel shines overhead, 

With scintillating ray; 
The hoar-frost on the street is spread, 

To form a long, white way. 

Changed by the magic of the frost, 

The world next day is seen, 
A fairy realm, that soon is lost. 

To day's fair, golden queen. 

THE GROVE 

Why need you build a temple to your God? 
If truly there be one omnipotent. 
In this eternal hope, rest thou content. 

He'll hear your prayer, though uttered from the sod. 

And be your altars graceful and sublime. 
You can not find a fairer church than this, 
Where moon-light soft the dark fir tops doth kiss, 

And silence deep surpasses chant and chime. 

The groves were God's first temples we are taught, 
And here beneath this blue, star-studded dome, 
Where tapering firs have found a tranquil home, 

Might all world-weary brains know restful thought. 

Would we might turn to those sweet early days. 
When savage man within the forest knelt, 
And in his breast the reverent spirit felt, 

That taught his tongue his maker's fitting praise. 



40 



Hypocrisy had not as yet been born, 
Who stands within a noble edifice, 
Nor seeks, nor finds a nobler task than this, 

The holy things of life to turn to scorn. 

Though fierce the passions in barbarian man. 
Yet ever were his loves and hates sincere. 
Before the new, strange world he stood in fear, 

And awe-inspired the universe did scan. 

Yet modern man in knowledge not advanced. 
Of those great forces that control this earth, 
Has found his fathers' faith a cause for mirth, 

And on his past but mockingly has glanced. 

Here would man's lips forget their scornful sneer ; 
His eyes forget their one-time sceptic light. 
Beneath the calm of stars and moon-beams bright, 

When silence and earth's shadows are so near. 

Within this temple lighted by the moon. 

No candles, faint and flickering, need to burn. 
The radiant night to lurid day to turn ; 

Here man with God in nature may commune. 

If you to God erect a votive shrine, 

Go build it where man's spirit may take part. 
And be at one with nature's own deep heart, 

There would he find his earthly home divine. 



41 



SECRET LOVE 

Thy love is secret. Great and true 
And pure and holy though it be, 

Yet must you keep it hid from view, 
That curious eyes may never see. 

Mankind vs^ould point the hand of scorn, 
At you, indeed, if they but knew 

This passion had in you been born. 

And was concealed from mortal view. 

Another woman bears his name. 
To all the world his lawful wife, 

But you, in joy, though still in shame, 
For years have shared his inner life. 

Their lives were joined in early youth, 
By bonds of holy church together. 

The hand of death alone in truth 
Those sacred bonds can sever. 

Your life and his, no golden ring, 

But love has knit together. 
That life, nor death, nor anything 

Can ever wrench asunder. 

You pass upon the city street; 

You seem as strangers ever; 
The moments rare, when you may meet, 

Are marked for you forever. 

There was a time when you rebelled, 
Against the stern demands of life. 

But time your youth's revolt has quelled 
And taught the uselessness of strife. 
42 



And so the years have o'er you flown ; 

Your youth has changed to middle age; 
Your heart has never older grown, 

Nor passed its summer's flowering stage. 

Had that fair love of yours but bloomed, 

Beneath the sun of happiness, 
It had to early death been doomed. 

For lack of tears of tenderness. 



THE MOON-LIGHT NIGHTS OF CHILD- 
HOOD DAYS 

O moon-light nights of childhood days. 
When down the country road we walked ; 

The future only met our praise. 
And of its joys we always talked. 

We sat beneath the flickering shade. 

Of rustling poplars at our door; 
We sang old songs, that had been made, 

For simple hearts in days of yore. 

We heard the shrill cicada's song, 

From out the branches overhead, 
And crickets chirping all night long, 

Within their cool and grassy bed. 

We spoke of lovers, who had wooed, 
Beneath the moon's enchanting light; 

We felt their earth-forgetful mood. 
Induced by silvery, shimmering night. 



43 



The moon had plied her fairy brush, 
And made our humble home divine; 

No sandy slope, no stunted bush. 
That did not show in graceful line. 

No ruined castles, ivy-clad. 

No w^aters, gleaming 'neath the moon, 
Can be so fair to memories sad. 

As that old home we left so soon. 

And of its many aspects fair, 

Which recollection still holds bright. 

There is no scene, that can compare, 
With home, seen on a moon-light night. 

NATURE 

Though solitude surrounds me, 

Yet am I not alone, 
For Nature still is with me, 

And claims me for her own. 

To one, who truly loves her, 

She bares her inmost heart; 
The pulses of his life-blood stir. 

With joys she doth impart. 

She tells to him the secret, 
Of life and birth and death; 

She is to him a magnet. 

As long as he draws breath. 

How oft has man despairing. 
To life's true meaning blind. 

In Nature's bounty sharing, 
With her found peace of mind. 

44 



Though Nature to despondent men 

Has taught the good of life, 
Yet each must learn It o'er again, 

From his own bitter strife. 

For mortal tongue can never tell 

The power that Nature gives, 
If man with her will only dwell. 

Where he first truly lives. 

Yet only in man's loneliness 

Will Nature be his guide. 
He needs must lose his worldliness. 

If he with her abide. 

O Nature, queen unequalled, 

I would that I might dwell. 
Alone with thee, untrammeled. 

In some cool, leafy dell. 

If I might seek my heart's retreat, 

I'd find a valley green. 
Where morning's breath, so soft and sweet, 

To me new life would mean. 

There balsam-laden conifers 

And fairy ferns abound. 
And from the depths of tall, dark firs. 

The wild birds' notes resound. 

They'd wake me with the day's dark dawn. 

As 'twere my natal day, 
Or birth of the world in ages gone, 

And I had time to play. 



45 



O, great, mysterious Nature, 

Thy beauties manifold 
No dim and man-made picture 

Has truly e'er unrolled. 

Nor have the songs of poets 

Thy glories half revealed. 
Nor all thy varied secrets 

By science been unsealed. 

TO THE PACIFIC OCEAN 

Old Ocean, always changing, 
To blue, and green and gray, 

Thy v^aves are ever breaking. 
In curling, foamy spray. 

Like fate, you move relentless. 
The countless ages through. 

An atom in thy vastness, 

Man sinks for aye from view. 

If I by thee should always dwell, 
I'd need no other friends. 

In sorrow and in joy as well. 
Thy presence all transcends. 

Within thy presence, mighty sea, 
Man's puny nature grows, 

How could he weak and trivial be, 
Who thy great beauty knows. 

Thou art so like eternity, 
Man's final home at last. 

He also came from out that sea. 
Yet never knows his past. 

46 



THE NIGHT 

There is no one abroad in the world, 

But only Night and I ; 
The storm its battle flag has furled, 

Up in the dark gray sky. 

The half-full moon does faintly shine. 
Through clouds, so fleecy now; 

The sea breeze is, O Night divine. 
Your kiss upon my brow. 

O tender Night, in your embrace. 

No other love want I, 
While I may gaze upon your face. 

And hear your gentle sigh. 

The Night, my sweetheart is, indeed, 

The truest and the best ; 
For mortal love, I have no need. 

While in her arms I rest. 



OUT ON THE HILLS 

Out on the hills together, 

Just you and I alone. 
Where blooms the purple heather, 

Just you and I alone. 

We'll build a hut for you and me. 
There where the cascade falls. 

And happy there at last we'll be. 
There where the cascade falls. 



47 



We'll think not on the world below, 

While merry waters sing; 
We'll hand in hand together go, 

While merry waters sing. 

The marmot whistles close beside, 

As we ascend the trail; 
Shy deer in leafy coverts hide, 

Beside us on the trail. 

We'll pluck the paint-brush growing there, 

Beside us on the trail. 
As we ascend the rocky stair, 

Where lies our chosen trail. 

THE WASTED LIFE 

I would kneel at thy altar, 
For my feet do but falter; 

In the dust I would lie. 
My poor soul is debased; 
And my life is disgraced; 

I have only to die. 

Thou wilt grant me thy pity. 
For my life, it is empty; 

It is useless to strive. 
There is joy on the earth; 
But for me, no more mirth ; 

I am dead, though alive. 



48 



Though my body must perish, 
Still my soul, thou wilt cherish, 

For thy law, it is mild. 
If in life, I have been 
Weak and tempted to sin. 

Thou wilt rescue thy child. 

Thou hast love for the loveless ; 
Thou art friend to the friendless ; 

And no other have I. 
Though so dark seems my morrow, 
O, thou man of great sorrow. 

In my faith I rely. 

TEARS 

O kindly tears, wilt thou not come to me. 

And cleanse my soul of all its grievous stains, 
As on the earth doth fall the welcome rains, 

That after drouth wash off impurity. 

My eyes are dry, as if they could not weep; 
Once, in the night tears came to my relief. 
Such gentle tears, that soothed my poignant grief. 

And then my spirit sought refreshing sleep. 

But now, indeed, my eyes are ever dry; 

The fountain of my tears is sealed, it seems, 
And yet, before my burning eye-balls gleams 

Bright rain, that falls from cloudy, wind-swept sky. 



49 



THE STARS 

Wouldst thou the everlasting stars should light 
Thy sin, thy weakness, and thy heart's disgrace, 

And wouldst thou desecrate the pure, sweet night? 
Far better day, with all its brightness, face. 

The sooner shall the recompense be made, 
Which lifts the load of sin from off thy soul. 

If in the light of day the scene be laid. 

And thou thenceforth must play no secret role. 

These stars have gazed through all the ages long, 
And much of good and evil have they seen. 

And yet, unheeding present right or wrong. 
They are so calm, so pure and so serene. 

These are God's eyes. Thy hidden soul they see, 
If it be dark, seek not the lonely night. 

For then remorse intense will come to thee. 

Compared to which men's punishments are slight. 



SUNSHINE AND SHADE 

In buoyant youth we crave but joy. 

Nor ask for tears at all. 
We think not how our earth would parch, 

If rain should fail to fall. 

It is the rain that makes the world. 

So fair for us to see. 
Than rainbow mists of waterfalls 

Can nothing fairer be. 



50 



We sit beside the little stream ; 

We hear its murmuring voice ; 
It is the rains, that fall betimes, 

That make the brook rejoice. 

If rain from heaven should cease to fall, 
The flowers w^ould droop and fade; 

Our souls are flowers that need as well 
The sunshine and the shade. 

It is the tears for others shed; 

The trials we bravely face, 
That fit our souls for better spheres, 

For their immortal place. 

THIS CHANGEFUL LIFE 

Although your life up to this time 

Has empty been and vain, 
Yet must you daily take your place, 

And toil and fret again. 

And life requires that you go on, 

Unto the bitter end. 
For who can tell but towards the last. 

Kind Fate will you befriend. 

For ever in this changeful life, 
We meet with good and ill, 

And let us bear them both alike. 
With patience and good will. 

And wait the coming of the day. 
That dawns so fair and bright. 

If only Faith sustains us through 
The darkness of the night. 
51 



TO A FRIEND 

And you are dead. The work you did so well 
Is done by others now and none can tell, 
That you are missed, for time has passed you by, 
Though, here and there, a friend still heaves a sigh 
And longs to see a face, whose sweet, kind smile 
Has lightened many a load a little while. 

Your presence haunts the places, where you spent 
So many hours on earth in work's content, 
And comes to those to whom your loss is great, 
And bids them patience have and only wait. 
For when a few short years have rolled away, 
They then shall join you in the perfect day. 



DEAD ON THE FIELD OF HONOR 

Dead on the field of honor, 
Your name is among the rest. 

To prove that you did not dishonor 
The flag that we love the best. 

And I have been left to my sorrow. 

Alone in this vale of tears. 
To wake with my grief on the morrow, 

And live through the weary years. 

And which is the heavier burden, 

I ask of my aching heart. 
For me there is never a guerdon. 

For this is the woman's part. 



52 



NIGHT 

When Night her mantle dark has spread, 
And man would ease his throbbing head, 
The breath of heaven, on his face, 
Of all his cares doth leave no trace. 
It is kind Nature's healing balm, 
And doth the restless spirit calm. 
God grant that all my life I may 
Know this sweet charm at close of day. 

THE HISTORY OF WITCHCRAFT 

O bloody page of history, 

We should not thee unroll. 
For dark and many are the crimes, 

Upon thy faded scroll. 

And yet, perhaps, it is as well, 
That we should see thy page. 

That we may profit by the faults, 
Of that long bygone age. 

And even though to modern thought. 

Thy deeds do thee disgrace. 
The motives, that impelled those deeds. 

Were not so low and base. 

We should not wholly blame the man, 
But that which ruled man's mind. 

The spirit of the age, alas, 

Which made all men seem blind. 



53 



THE DRUG FIEND 

You seem to merely casual eyes, 

As free as any other man; 
You're fettered by a web of lies; 

Your inner soul may no one scan. 

An inner demon rules your life, 
And makes your soul a very hell; 

They only know your pain and strife. 
Who have a similar tale to tell. 

To one who knows, there is a sign, 
Upon your face, however fair, 

A furtive look, a deep'ning line, 
A secret longing, written there. 

Though years may pass before the end. 
Yet Nature will demand at last 

The life through weakness undermined. 
And held accursed this long time past. 

O wretched man, still in your prime. 
If it, indeed, be not too late, 

Oh, turn again, if there be time. 
And win a pardon of kind Fate. 



54 



THE EMIGRANT'S FAREWELL 

Although our lives were far apart, 

Between us oceans rolled, 
Yet wert thou present in my heart, 

As in the days of old. 

My sister, thou shalt rest at last, 
Where many loved ones sleep, 

But far away my lot is cast. 
Across the waters deep. 

Within an English church-yard rest. 
Remote from worldly strife, 

Amid the scenes we once loved best. 
Where passed our early life. 

They marvel that I have not shed 

Most bitter tears for thee. 
Thou art as near to me, when dead. 

As living thou couldst be. 

Though life was hard to you and me, 
The hope shone ever bright, 

That some time in eternity. 
Our souls would re-unite. 



55 



ALONE 

Alone you walk the earth, 

Whatever fortunes come; 
There is for you no mirth, 

No love and ne'er a home. 

When first life's breath you drew. 

Among the race of men, 
Fate set her mark on you, 

That hers you might be then. 

Yet she was kind to you. 

Her slighted, lonely child; 
Your friends she made the true, 

Free creatures of the wild. 

She gave you joys but known. 

To few of mortal birth. 
To those who walk alone 

The byways of the earth. 

THERE IS NO GOD 

There is no God. Our hearts' despairing cry 
Will ne'er be heard by one, who hovers nigh. 

There is no God. This world is but a dream; 
The things, we think most real, they do but seem. 

There is no God. Mere chance doth rule our lives ; 
We are no more than bees, in busy hives. 

There is no God. Our loves are instincts wild ; 
We follow passion, led, as any child. 

Thus spoke the fool and, while he spoke, he knew 
The words, he uttered then, they were not true. 

56 



LIFE 

You rise each morn, Imbued with hope, 
That you with all the world can cope ; 
Each evening sees your dumb despair, 
That you life's burdens cannot bear. 

You long for rest; to strive no more, 
Or for the strength of days of yore, 
When each defeat but made you will 
More firmly you would conquer still. 
But long, sad years have taken toll, 
From your once hopeful, buoyant soul. 

Yet struggle on; life lies before, 
Let your unbridled spirit soar. 
Perhaps this, which you deem defeat, 
Will prove to be a lying cheat, 
And long, long years of labor done 
At last will see the battle won. 

THY GRAVE 

The winds will blow above thy grave 
The stars will shine on high. 

The prairie grass will lightly wave 
Where thou in peace doth lie. 

It will not matter then, indeed, 

That life was sad for thee ; 
That Fate, ordaining all, decreed 

Thy life should fruitless be. 



57 



THE UNLOVED 

Just one more unneeded, 

Among the world's throng; 
Her sorrow unheeded, 

She passes along. 
The love, which she cherished, 

Hast cast her away. 
And like the jewel tarnished, 

The past has her day. 

FATE 

And if your hour has come when you 
Must pay the debt from mortals due, 
Think not you can avert it still, 
For Fate obeys not man's weak will, 
But bravely go until the end, 
Improve the time you still may spend. 
For naught can harm you till the hour. 
That Fate ordained should you o'erpower. 



5» 



THE PLACE THAT I LOVE BEST 

O Nature, Mother Nature, 

When man has turned away. 
How welcome then at leisure, 

With you to lightly stray. 

Upon this green and mossy bed, 

I rest when work is o'er, 
Below me there in sunshine spread, 

Your gleaming waters pour. 

And when my work on earth is done. 

And time doth go apace, 
The dear repose that I have won, 

I'll find in your embrace. 

There's many a spot that I love well. 

Where it were sweet to rest, 
And hard were it for me to tell 

The place that I love best. 

There's one where range the mountains free, 

And winds cool always blow. 
Where 'neath a gnarled, old pine tree. 

There gleams eternal snow. 

There once we stood and knew life's worth; 

We felt its coursing glow; 
The youth, the freedom of the earth, 

All over us did flow. 

If I should sleep the vales above, 

Would mem'ry for me wake 
And bring the presence of my love 

And joy for old time's sake? 
59 



There's one along the ocean beach, 

Where voices from the deep 
My slumb'ring soul perhaps would reach, 

And peace would o'er me sweep. 

For there, where logs are strangely cast. 

Upon a desolate shore, 
Full many happy hours I passed, 

In care-free days of yore. 

How oft I heard the sea-bird's cry. 

When o'er the billows gray, 
It sweeps afar, then hovers nigh. 

And never feels man's sway. 

I saw the rocks' grim majesty. 

Enveloped in white spray. 
Where myriad creatures of the sea 

May pass their lives' brief day. 

I also love the forest shade. 

And still my soul repines. 
For one lone spot within a glade. 

Beneath the stately pines. 

There peeps the moon so silvery round, 
Through branches high o'erhead. 

And lights my one-time camping-ground 
And balsam-scented bed. 

At eventide there still would sound 

The bells of distant sheep, 
Although I lay deep underground, 

Enwrapped in earth's last sleep. 



60 



But there is still another spot, 

The dearest of them all, 
And I have never quite forgot 

The lonely prairie's call. 

It may not have the scenic charms 

Of mountains, or the sea 
But, ah, it stretches wide its arms 

And bids all men be free. 

There should I rest in sweet content, 

Upon a grassy knoll. 
Where many childhood hours I spent 

And dreamt of life's dim goal. 



6i 



NEW LIFE 

I thought thfe joys of life were past for me, 
But no, 'twas written by the hand of Fate, 

The soul in innocent blue eyes should be 
My guiding star unto a better state. 

And so eternal purity^^ wipes out 

The stains of sin, that mar man's better self. 
I could not kiss thy lips' red, infant pout. 

And know my soul was sold for some base pelf. 

TO A WORKMAN 

When men, who toil not with hard, horny hands, 
Have sought the rest, that daily work demands, 
Then you employ your leisure moments few. 
In giving your poor house, a home-like view, 
And though we praise the palace close beside, 
It is the poor man's home, that is our pride. 
For lordly mansions do but represent 
Cold cash, not toilful hours the owners spent. 



62 



FAITH AND DOUBT 

I look upon the world today, 

The past and future too, 
And nothing drives my gloom away. 

In that expansive view. 

Yet mingled with the darker deeds, 

Man's chronicles contain. 
Our life must fill its daily needs, 

And hope and joy remain. 

And if a noble heart in pain 

Its latter days must spend, 
I should not grieve too much in vain, 

For life is not the end. 

Sometimes I think I have a clue, 

To this world's mystery, 
But thoughts must change as tissues do, 

And so, alas, with me. 

Conviction that today is born, 
That God preserves mankind, 

Tomorrow seems a hope forlorn. 
Not worthy of the mind. 

Yet must I learn from insects small, 
Which instinct rules, not mind, 

A God has shaped this earthly ball, 
And Fate is not all blind. 

Though Reason prompts, must I believe 
The grave all things w411 end? 

No. Faith at least she still must leave. 
Though Faith and Doubt contend. 

63 



THE ACCIDENT 

A day, a glorious summer day, 
A band of merry boys at play. 
Upon their bicycles they race. 
And never think they danger face. 
Adown the road the foremost spins, 
Delighted that the race he wins, 
But hark, around the bend, not far, 
Is heard a coming motor car. 
Before him looms a sudden death. 
He cannot pause to gather breath, 
To right or left where'er he steer. 
The hand of Fate is drawing near. 
A moment fraught with dire suspense. 
Will then a soul be hastened hence? 
A shapeless mass they find him there, 
Who was a child, so strong and fair. 
Yet still he lives and will not die, 
O Fate, unkind, we ask you why. 
No more he'll play with other boys; 
No more will know our human joys. 
He lives, alas, to wait for death, 
To curse the day that gave him breath. 



64 



